


The Last Dragonlord(s)

by moo_shu



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actions speak louder than words in this case, Balinor Lives (Merlin), Episode: s02e13 The Last Dragonlord, Even though he doesn't really have any lines here, Gen, Kilgharrah is kind of a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moo_shu/pseuds/moo_shu
Summary: It will have to be cleaned lest he risk infection, but it is certainly nowhere near life threatening.“I’m fine, boy.” Balinor says with a rough smile, “I’m fine.”
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	The Last Dragonlord(s)

On their way back to Camelot, Balinor in tow, they are attacked by Cenred’s men. The sun is just rising over the treetops, and Arthur wakes him with a hard shake and a firm hand over his mouth.

“Quiet,” the prince hisses, “Cenred’s men have found us.”

Balinor - his _father,_ gods - is already up with his sword drawn. Merlin catches a glimpse of silver out of the corner of his eye, and then the fighting starts.

There aren’t many men, but it isn't a small force either. Merlin somehow finds himself with a sword in hand, and is miraculously able to swing and fell at least two enemy soldiers. 

Almost as soon as the fighting starts, it ends. The three of them are victorious, albeit a little scratched up - Merlin has acquired a shallow cut across his face, while his father now sports a bloody spot along his upper shoulder.

“F-Balinor!” He exclaims, dropping the sword and rushing over to the Dragonlord’s side. His fingers run across the torn fabric, and he lets out a shaky breath when he realizes that like the cut on his face, the slash on Balinor’s shoulder is shallow and superficial.

It will have to be cleaned lest he risk infection, but it is certainly nowhere near life threatening.

“I’m fine, boy.” Balinor says with a rough smile, “I’m fine.”

\---

The remainder of their trip to Camelot is tense and long, but uneventful. Uther has obviously been warned of their approach though, as he is waiting at the gate when their horses trot up. 

“Dragonlord,” the king near-hisses as soon as they’re within hearing range.

“King,” Balinor snaps back just as poisonously. 

Merlin can see the muscles working in Uther’s jaw. “Bold of you to return here, armed with only an old sword and your poisonous words. I seem to remember that you are banished from my Kingdom, on penalty of death.”

Balinor sneers, all sharp teeth and the fierceness of living in a cave for years on end, “Aye, and I seem to remember hearing that all the dragons had been executed. I suppose we both might be remembering things a bit differently in our old age.”

Uther looks apocalyptic, but before he can respond, an earth-shattering screech echoes over the kingdom. The ominous beat of the dragon’s wings thump heavily through the air, and a stream of fire pours hotly from the treetops out in the middle distance. 

Kilgharrah’s great bulk follows the column of fire, his golden-brown scales shimmering brightly in the setting sun’s light. With another tremendous roar, he points his snout towards the city and charges.

Around them, the people scream in terror. The knights’ shoot uselessly at the dragon’s impenetrable hide as he passes above them, and they all watch in horror as he lets loose another devastating stream of flame. 

“Father, this is no time for your decades-long petty squabbles,” Arthur snaps, in the nastiest tone Merlin has ever heard him use against the king. “Our people are dying, and the Dragonlord has graciously offered his assistance. Allow us to pass, so that he may honor his word.” 

For a moment, Uther almost looks...hurt. The moment passes quickly though, and his expression is once again filled with ice. He turns his sharp eyes towards Balinor. “You are not welcome in my kingdom, _Dragonlord.”_ He hisses, “I have more important matters to be dealing with at the moment, but if I catch word of your presence after this flying rat has been slain, you will not live to see the morning sun.” 

With that, he twists around, calling his knights to charge deeper into the city in an attempt to somehow damage the dragon enough to ground him. 

Merlin hears Arthur clear his throat. “Right, I suppose that’s as good as we’re going to get.” With a nod in both his and Balinor’s direction, he spurs his mount forwards into the city. Merlin follows suit, as does Balinor.

They’d stolen a spare horse from Cenred’s men, so the three of them take off through the city as fast as the streets allow, tracking Kilgharrah’s path and aiming to meet him when he makes his next pass along the edges of the lower city walls. 

“Balinor!” Arthur shouts.

His father - his _father_ \- doesn’t slow, but he does tilt his head towards Arthur, listening for whatever he has to say. 

“I’m going to round up the knights!” He continues, “I’ll have them lead the people away from the eastern part of the city! There will be fewest casualties there, if you can lure the beast that way and fight him there. Do you need any sort of weapon to complete your task!?”

Balinor barks out a laugh, “Boy, the day a Dragonlord needs a weapon to face a Dragon, is the day both of our species go extinct!” With another wild laugh, he breaks away from the two of them, off towards where they can see Kilgharrah twisting around in the air for another strike. 

Merlin hears Arthur click his tongue, probably not too thrilled with his answer. Despite that, he doesn’t call after him. With another nod, he turns his own horse and takes off, to do exactly what he’d said he would and round up all the spare knights’ and civilians. 

That leaves Merlin on his own, thundering along the burning streets without an order to follow his prince. Normally, that wouldn’t matter - he would follow Arthur even if he’d been told to stay at the castle. However, normally, his _father_ wasn’t running off into the opposite direction to face a bloody angry dragon. 

It’s not really a hard decision, in the end. There’s nothing he can do to help Arthur, but there might be something he could do to help Balinor. He might not be a Dragonlord himself, but he _was_ a sorcerer. One who had been around Kilgharrah for the better part of a few years now.

Turning his horse, he takes off after his father. 

\---

Merlin catches up to his father in record timing, guiding his horse into alignment and tossing him a watery smile. His father smiles back, something almost like surprise reflected in his eyes.

Above them, Kilgharrah lets out another ear-splitting howl, twisting in a loop and hovering in mid-air above the city. His powerful wings keep him airborne as he scans the ground below him. Merlin wonders if he can see them, or sense the approach of a Dragonlord. 

It hardly matters if he does or doesn’t though, because he still lets out another blazing stream of fire. It’s aimed at some point to their right, and Merlin winces when the screams of the city-goers reach his ears. 

Balinor lets out a deep sigh, turning his face skywards towards the hovering dragon. “I’m sorry about this, old friend.” And then he throws his head back and _roars._

\---

“Come with me.” His father asks breathlessly, only minutes after the dragon is sent away.

Merlin knows Balinor can’t stay in Camelot long - not with Uther’s words at the gate hanging around their heads like a noose. Merlin is sure Arthur would refuse to execute him, but all that will do is stretch his father’s rage to include his own son.

He looks over to where Arthur stands, hovering over a fallen (but thankfully not injured) Sir Leon. The handful of knight’s that had shown up when Kilgharrah had landed had been knocked around a bit by the dragon’s powerful wingbeats, but had followed their orders and not approached or made any threatening actions.

Balinor had stepped forward and spoke with Kilgharrah in some rough, gluttenal language that Merlin had somehow understood. In fact, Kilgharrah’s speech sounds exactly like every other time they’d spoken, and Merlin wonders if he’d been speaking the language of dragons all along, and just never realized it. It figured the lousy lizard had never told him. He wonders if that makes him a Dragonlord too. He wonders if it’s an inherited gift, or one you had to learn. 

Arthur had shifted uncomfortably beside him the entire time, and it feels like an eternity until Kilgharrah bows suddenly, and then spreads his wings and takes off into the sky.

 _“What are you doing!”_ Arthur had shouted, taking a single step forward and hefting his sword.

Turning, Balinor had rested his arm on the pommel of his own sword, a hard look in his eyes. _“Kilgharrah will never bother Camelot again.”_ He had said simply, and Merlin’s breath catches when he realizes that his father’s eyes blaze with gold. He’s intrigued to realize that it doesn’t fade, even when Kilgharrah is but a spot in the distance, and especially once he realizes that his father is not actively holding a spell - he knows from Gaius that his own eyes blaze gold, but only when he was casting a spell.

 _“I am the last Dragonlord,”_ Balinor continued wearily, although Merlin can see his eyes fight to keep looking straight ahead, _“And he, the last dragon. I could not kill my kin so easily, but I have forbade him from ever returning to these lands, unless summoned by another Dragonlord.”_

 _“And what stops you from summoning him back then, last Dragonlord?”_ One of the knights snaps.

The gold flares brightly within Balinors eyes, _“I’ve done my duty and repaid my debts,”_ he growled out, _“But I have no wish to associate myself with Camelot ever again. You can rest assured I will never send the dragon after you.”_

“Merlin?” Balinor questions, pulling him back to the present. He can see the tiny spark of hope reflected within his father’s eyes - hope that his life was worth more than solitude and a damp cave, hope that he could live freely, with purpose, and with people who cared for and understood him. Or perhaps Merlin was just projecting. 

_‘You have a great destiny, young warlock.’_ The dragon had told him, time and time again, _‘Your magic has a purpose - to protect Arthur, and guide him into kingship.’_

And he’d believed it. Arthur was...a good person, at heart. And Merlin had no doubt that he would make a fine king one day. But, when it came down to it, he didn’t need Merlin for that. It was like he’d said on their journey out to find Balinor: Arthur was a prince, while Merlin was of common birth. They could not be friends, or equals, or anything - and that was without even taking his magic into consideration. 

_‘You and Arthur are two sides of the same coin.’_ The dragon had often emphasized, _‘Meant to be, and made to complement each other.’_

He’d lost so much already by listening to the dragon’s advice, and he’s caused so much destruction by letting him go free. Perhaps it was time to forge his own destiny, instead of listening to the ramblings of a mad beast that had been trapped beneath a castle for twenty years. 

“Yeah,” he tells his father, voice hoarse, “Yes of course I’ll come with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A draft I've had saved for awhile. Cleaned it up a bit, and figured I'd post.


End file.
